Fluffywuffy
08-06-2004, 16:47
THe towering Confederate I spacecraft sat on its launch pad, white paint glistening like coral, waiting for the signal to go. Along the launch pad came the crew-one man-in a heroes parade. Smiling and waving to the cameras as he prepared to board the ship he vowed "I'll be home by dinner time," and he happily climbed the superstructure of the launch tower. As he entered the spacecraft, his bulky suit rendering him less mobile than others, he was strapped in by a companion, the door closed, and he was alone. He prepared himself mentally for the trauma of the ride and started initiating some of the pre-launch checks.
Back home in mission control, ten miles away, the signal to commence launch was give by the Director of Space Flight, Ron McKinley, as he dubbed the weather was suited to this operation.
"Alright Confederate I this is Mission Control you are cleared for launch. Over."
"Roger Mission Control this is Confederate I, igniting engines. Over"
"Begin launch in 10.....9.....8.....7....6.....5....clear tower arm....4.....3....2....1....lift off."
Within a few slow seconds the craft shot straight up, plume of smoke and fire behind it, like a thunderbolt. Inside the craft the astronaut-Chris Shipman-shook and rumbled, his ears saved from the rumble of the engines by sound proof walls. The craft's window and instrument panel showed him his location, and as per standard operation he radioed back home.
"Mission Control this is Confederate I, clearing the stratosphere now. Over."
Radioing again and again showing his position over the next few seconds, finally the most important call came in.
Mission Control this is Confederate I, cleared the atmostphere and am in space, over."
"Roger Confederate I, this is Mission Control, glad to have you up there. Enjoying the view? Over."
"Roger, this is Confederate I it's one hell of a view. Going into orbit now, over."
The craft gracefully circled the planet, not one, but six times. On the seventh time it was time to come home, and so the capsule containing the astronaut detachted from the rest of the craft, tearing a firery hole through the atmosphere, retro rockets correcting the craft's position. Soon enough the parachute opened and the spaceship gently landed within a mile of the predetermined landing, the open farmland of rural Fluffywuffy. THe rest of the craft aimed itself to the open ocean, where it was likely atleast part of the booster rockets could retrieved.
Within thirty minutes a SAR helicopter located the ship and the team quickly freed him from the capsule and hoisted it up with a whinch. The white paint was charred black from reentry, and would likely find a place in a museum, not on the tip of a rocket.
Hours later, Chris Shipman found himself in a massive parade through Capital City-an artificial city holding all government offices-where he found himself surrounded by people, cameras, and government officials. He shook hands with those that crossed his path and met with the President, who gave a short speech.
"Today is a landmark in our history of exploring space; it is the day where we sent our own man to space with our own rockets and marks the first day of our endeavor to explore space. Other natiosn would do well to see the wonders of exploring space and the peace that comes from exploring it, as well as the many economic developments it can provide. Exploring space shall make our nation stronger than ever. Today, orbit, tommorow, the Moon."
President James Stuart shook hands with Chris and then they both paraded out of there.
Back home in mission control, ten miles away, the signal to commence launch was give by the Director of Space Flight, Ron McKinley, as he dubbed the weather was suited to this operation.
"Alright Confederate I this is Mission Control you are cleared for launch. Over."
"Roger Mission Control this is Confederate I, igniting engines. Over"
"Begin launch in 10.....9.....8.....7....6.....5....clear tower arm....4.....3....2....1....lift off."
Within a few slow seconds the craft shot straight up, plume of smoke and fire behind it, like a thunderbolt. Inside the craft the astronaut-Chris Shipman-shook and rumbled, his ears saved from the rumble of the engines by sound proof walls. The craft's window and instrument panel showed him his location, and as per standard operation he radioed back home.
"Mission Control this is Confederate I, clearing the stratosphere now. Over."
Radioing again and again showing his position over the next few seconds, finally the most important call came in.
Mission Control this is Confederate I, cleared the atmostphere and am in space, over."
"Roger Confederate I, this is Mission Control, glad to have you up there. Enjoying the view? Over."
"Roger, this is Confederate I it's one hell of a view. Going into orbit now, over."
The craft gracefully circled the planet, not one, but six times. On the seventh time it was time to come home, and so the capsule containing the astronaut detachted from the rest of the craft, tearing a firery hole through the atmosphere, retro rockets correcting the craft's position. Soon enough the parachute opened and the spaceship gently landed within a mile of the predetermined landing, the open farmland of rural Fluffywuffy. THe rest of the craft aimed itself to the open ocean, where it was likely atleast part of the booster rockets could retrieved.
Within thirty minutes a SAR helicopter located the ship and the team quickly freed him from the capsule and hoisted it up with a whinch. The white paint was charred black from reentry, and would likely find a place in a museum, not on the tip of a rocket.
Hours later, Chris Shipman found himself in a massive parade through Capital City-an artificial city holding all government offices-where he found himself surrounded by people, cameras, and government officials. He shook hands with those that crossed his path and met with the President, who gave a short speech.
"Today is a landmark in our history of exploring space; it is the day where we sent our own man to space with our own rockets and marks the first day of our endeavor to explore space. Other natiosn would do well to see the wonders of exploring space and the peace that comes from exploring it, as well as the many economic developments it can provide. Exploring space shall make our nation stronger than ever. Today, orbit, tommorow, the Moon."
President James Stuart shook hands with Chris and then they both paraded out of there.